


Shadows in the spotlight

by RogueLioness



Series: Thedosian Tales [4]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Rarepair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:35:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25683640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RogueLioness/pseuds/RogueLioness
Summary: Krem watches her from the sidelines.
Relationships: Cremisius "Krem" Aclassi/Female Inquisitor, Cremisius "Krem" Aclassi/Female Lavellan
Series: Thedosian Tales [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1862428
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	Shadows in the spotlight

He’d always watched her from the sidelines.

She was never alone, the woman they called the Herald of Andraste, always surrounded by people far more important than he was. There was always someone clamoring for her attention, the ambassador, the spymaster, her companions, and she gave them so much of her time she had little left for the likes of him.

He was just a member of a mercenary group hired by her organization. He wasn’t even a cog in the machine, he just _was_. The ale that slid down his throat was as bitter as the thought that preceded it.

He vowed to be wiser. To not let a pretty elf get to him. He told himself that she was nothing special, that there was nothing especially appealing about the way her chestnut brown hair curled past her shoulders, nothing unique about those delicate, tree-like markings on her face, nothing remarkable about those sky-blue eyes. She was just another elf. That was it.

He didn’t take anyone back to his tent that night.

Then Haven fell, and he gave his all trying to protect the village, to protect _her_ , but despite his efforts he wasn’t allowed to be by her side. That privilege went to his boss, and it was the first time Krem glowered at the man, mentally vowing to do bodily harm to him if anything happened to Lavellan, but trusting Bull to keep her safe nonetheless.

And then… Bull had returned to their group as they fled into the mountains.

He was alone.

Not even the blizzard that swirled around him matched the ice that was his heart. All he could think of in that moment was _I should have told her, why didn’t I tell her, oh sweet Maker let her be safe, please let her be alive, please, I need to tell her, I have to tell her, she can’t be dead._

But the hours passed, and as the wolves howled into the silence of the icy night, he slowly began to lose hope.

Then…

A shout. “Thank the Maker! She’s alive!”

He could have wept for joy.

That her condition was grave, he expected, and kept watch over her, even if it was from a distance. He ensured that she was able to recover in privacy, keeping away the villagers who wanted to get a glimpse of the elf who had saved them. Bull shot him several looks, and he suspected that the boss knew how he felt, but at that moment, with Lavellan sequestered away in a hut, bones broken, blood lost, and fever raging, he couldn’t care less.

There was strength in her soul, a grim determination in every muscle, every sinew. She recovered, and she walked again, inspiring hope in all who saw her. Krem decided to make his move - the timing seemed appropriate - when she was whisked away by the elven mage, Solas.

His heart sank.

He knew she spent a great deal of time in conversation with the older elf, and could understand her attraction to him. Solas was knowledgeable, well-read, well-travelled, and he was able to teach Lavellan things that Krem never could. And he was part of her trusted team. How would he ever be able to compete with that?

Bleakly, he turned away.

They trudged through the Frostbacks, and he was kept busy with one task or another. In any case, he doubted if he would have been able to catch a moment with her; Lavellan was far too busy scouting ahead for signs of the mysterious fortress that Solas had told her about. A part of him, a crooked part of him, hoped that there was no fortress, that what he had told her was a lie. _If there’s no fortress_ , the demon on his shoulder whispered, _he would have lied to her, and she will never be able to trust him again_.

Luck, of course, was not on his side. Skyhold was magnificent, and the last of his hopes crashed against the massive stone blocks that made up its walls.

And then she was lifted to Inquisitor, a title bearing power beyond anything he could imagine, yet all he saw was her drifting away even further from him. There was no chance for him. Not in this world.

Blessedly, his mind had little time to brood, for there was too much work to be done. The Chargers were kept busy with clearing out debris from the long-abandoned keep, and it was when he was in the middle of breaking down an old, rotting bed that he heard the door close, far too gently for the wind to have done it.

He turned around.

And froze.

Lavellan was standing before him, her eyes fixed on his, her hands clasped behind her back. Distantly, he wondered why she looked so nervous, but the most prominent thought in his mind was _why is she here_ and _what does she want_?

“I, uhhh, I believe congratulations are due,” he stammered out when she said nothing.

“Oh! I- um, thank you,” she mumbled, her gaze dropping to the floor.

Though her tunic was streaked with dirt in several places, and her hair was tousled and tangled by the wind, he thought she’d never looked prettier as she did now, the sunlight shining golden on her, making her seem ethereal.

“Can I help you with something, Inquisitor?” he asked, and she flinched.

“Yes,” she seemed to come to a decision, and stiffened her spine. “I don’t want you to call me Inquisitor.”

“Wh-what would you like me to call you then?” he was baffled.

She took two steps in his direction, and it brought her almost flush to him. She was so close, he could see the specks of sapphire scattered through the iris.

“Sora,” she replied, her voice little more than a whisper. “My name is Sora.”

“Sora,” he breathed, the syllables rolling pleasantly over his tongue. “What can I do for you?”

She looked at him, a long, searching look that he thought went straight to his soul; he stood, transfixed, under the power of her gaze. Then she blinked, and the air around them shifted slightly, a light breeze swirling around them.

She leaned up-

-and kissed him.

He was too stunned to respond, certain he was in some kind of dream, but the warmth of her lips was too good to be real, the taste of her, sweet and heady, he could not have imagined, and _Maker, she’s here, she’s here and she’s kissing me_ -

He pulled her close to him, his hands on her waist, and deepened the kiss, the small whimper she made thrilling his heart. When it ended - and it ended far too soon for him, he would never tire, ever, of kissing her, it was just not possible - they drew apart, both breathing erratically.

“Wh-” he began, just as she said, “I’m-”

“You go first,” he said, hope once again sprouting within him.

She gnawed on her lip, drawing attention to it - _Maker, he wanted to kiss her again_ , and he groaned internally - then cleared her throat. “I’m not sorry for that,” she said, almost defiantly. “I’ve been wanting to do that for _ages_.”

He could only stare at her, stunned.

She… wanted… him?

She wanted _him_.

_She_ wanted _him_.

He claimed her lips again, unable to stop himself, pouring months of pent-up emotions and feelings and desire into it, and when she pulled away, gasping for breath, he enjoyed the sight of her lips, now kiss-swollen and plump. 

“I think,” she began with a small smile, “that perhaps I was not the only one who felt that way.”

“No,” he murmured, moving closer to her. “Perhaps I can show you just _how_ I feel?”

She placed a hand on his cheek, her thumb tracing his jaw. “What a wonderful idea.”


End file.
